Fictionista Workshop WitFit Prompts
by J-Nynja
Summary: A collection of responses to Fictionista Workshop WitFit prompts for March 2010. Mainly derivative work, and rated up to T for possible dark themes and subject matter. Please note, these are not full length one-shots.
1. March 1, 2010

**Pen name:** Edwina Cullen

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction):** AU/Derivative

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s):** T

**Disclaimer:** All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

**Prompt:** _(Scenario)_ After a long day at work, you stop for dinner at your favorite restaurant. However, there is long wait for a table, so you're left standing in the corner. You're stressed, worn-out, and irritated by the noise, the small child tugging on your jacket, and the stranger staring at you, but you refuse to leave. Using all the elements and emotions, describe what happens next.

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**Debutante**

Time had not changed the look of the restaurant. Like it had many years ago, the bland exterior was still completely misleading. Its pale beige walls had grown only marginally darker, betraying how long ago it had last been painted. The now weather beaten sign at the front had also become an antique instead of a tool to draw customers in. It was no secret that this was the best restaurant in town. Chez Jolie did not need any advertisement.

The popular eatery had little space to cater for the large numbers that patronized it. Even after several expansion works had been done to create more room for hungry clients, the long queue of waiting patrons outside more marked the spot than deterred potential customers.

I sighed, pulling out my old Motorola phone to confirm that I had been waiting nearly 30 minutes for my turn. Pushing it back into the small pocket on my suit, I shifted slightly to readjust the sleeping child in my arms. His head sagged further into the crook of my neck and his arm tightened around my neck.

I swallowed and looked down at the other small child holding onto my hand. She shifted, leaning heavily onto my already tired leg. I bent slightly and stroked her curls. My brave little girl, though sleepy, had readily forfeited her comfort for her twin brother.

Glancing back at the door, I sighed again, wishing the other customers would hurry so we could find a table, eat quickly and return to the warmth in our home. Suddenly, the queue moved forward, putting us in second place. There is still hope, I thought.

After several moments of waiting made no difference to our situation, I woke the child in my arms up and put him back down on his feet. He protested groggily and leaned on my other leg while I stretched the painful kinks out of my arm. For a brief moment, I thought I caught a flash of a sad smile cross the host's rigid exterior. I smiled back at him, batting my long eyelashes when he turned to look again.

"S'il vous plait, monsieur, how much longer do we need to wait?" I asked, darting the tip of my tongue quickly over my parched lips to moisten them at the end of the enquiry and gesturing at my twin children. The stoic man looked down and gasped.

It was no surprise, nearly everybody who met my children had the same reaction to seeing them. His lips stretched into a wide smile for the angelic looking two. I smiled back, proudly gathering them closer to myself, their golden eyes wide, pleading and hungry looking.

"Madame," he called to me when he had sufficiently regained his composure. "We will find you a place immediately."

"Of course, merci beaucoup," I murmured, nodding to him gratefully as he pushed through the entrance.

A few minutes later, we were seated in the dark interior with the red silk curtains hanging from ceiling to floor. Like the outer, the décor was just as bland. An old crystal chandelier still hung from the fake Michelangelo ceiling.

I smiled slowly, thinking back to 20 years ago, when turning 40 seemed eons away and not easily attainable. The waiters still wore the same old uninspiring uniforms they did then. Their distressing orange stripes, running from shoulder to feet, nearly marred one's experience of the exquisitely done cuisine of the restaurant.

"What would you like, Madame?" a soft voice drew closer to inquire.

I smiled up at him and placed our orders for the house special. As he hurried away to fetch our meals, I caught a man looking at us from the corner. His intent gaze piercing through me made me very uncomfortable, but I was unable to tear my eyes from his.

He rose and strode towards us, gliding as though he was drifting on a cloud. As he neared us, I gasped at his striking resemblance to the twins. His eyes were golden as well, though darker and more experienced. His skin was just as pale, highlighted by the dark blue shirt he wore, opened at the lapel to reveal a spray of chest hair, the same shade of blonde as the hair on his head.

"Are they..?" he asked in a small voice, looking at both children in awe.

"Oui…yes," I stuttered, nodding when my voice failed me. He turned to smile at me, weakening my already shaking knees with his dazzling smile. For a moment I wondered if he could see my distress, but he turned away before I could catch any signs in his knowing glance.

Finally gathering enough courage to ask, I whispered, "Êtes-vous … are you?" gesturing towards the quiet duo sitting opposite from me.

"Once, a long time ago. J'étais débutante, aussi," he replied, dipping his eyes to look over the identical pair of faces raised towards his again. I smiled at him then, and nodded once. Sensing my approval, he smiled back and touched his forefinger to each child's cheek. His smile faltered for a moment, and a flash of emotion whisked over his expression briefly.

"Au revoir," he finally whispered, more to my children than to me. I meant to reply, the words "à bientôt" forming on the tip of my tongue. But before I could whisper them back, he hurried on and disappeared through the exit.

"Maman," Estelle finally called to me, "who was that man?"

Exactly as I had expected, my daughter's raging curiosity reared up when I had no answers to give her. I glanced towards the door briefly, resisting the urge to smile as I whispered back to her, "C'est un nul, Cherie."

She looked dissatisfied with my answer, wondering why I had called the man 'a nobody' when he seemed more than that. She turned to look towards the exit as I watched her closely, pursing my lips when she returned her questioning gaze to mine.

Her own lips tightened briefly, but she did not speak again. Instead, she sighed slowly and squeezed her twin brother's hand once, blowing slightly on a spoonful of bœuf ragout before silently lifting it to her mouth.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks to my wonderful editor, findthewill. Your support is amazing!


	2. March 2, 2010

**Penname:** Edwina Cullen

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction):** Derivative

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s):** G

**Disclaimer:** All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

**Prompt:**_ (Imagined Image)_ Consider the effect lightning can have on people, such as injury, property damage, and fear. Imagine an instance when lightning has an effect on you. Write about it in third-person narrative.

* * *

**Beneath the African Sky**

Thea had always wondered about Africa. The many mysteries her half sister, Nena, spoke about still made brief appearances in her dreams. When her stepsister had come to visit last summer, she spoke again about the abundance of fruits, growing and rotting in every corner under the afternoon sky. She spoke glowingly of exotic places to see, of wonderful people to meet, and how the weather was always terrific.

Though intriguing, the young American girl hardly believed her elder sister's stories. Most of them were about vampires. For instance, Nena claimed there were up to nine different kinds of vampires in Togo alone, where she resided. Usually, with preposterous explanations, the half-caste African woman tried to confuse her more naïve teenaged sibling.

"There are those that are sent in thunder and lightning to come and kill wrongdoers," she had said about the vampires one night, trailing off at the end to give her tale a more dramatic effect.

Thea had looked on in stunned wonder, and sometimes in jealous awe. How amazing it would be, she had thought, for God to send down judgment on those that harmed others. Then, maybe, the wicked man who had shot her dad down in the mall that day would not still be alive.

Here, in the whole of the United States, there was only one kind of vampire. They hardly ever appeared to mere humans, but of course, they were feared. For once a person had an encounter with such an immortal creature, he either lost his life or soul. They were hardly ever avenging "angels" as Nena had intimated about their African counterparts.

It was only logical then, for Thea to crave a look at this wonderful place her sister continuously spoke about, this paradise on earth that her sister had described in such vivid details, where there was no snow, school or stupid boys.

"Please take me with you," she had begged tearfully, every year when her time with her sister came to an end.

Nena would look pitifully at Thea and whisper, "Soon, someday soon."

So, when Nena had come to visit again soon after Thea's mother had passed away, Thea knew that her time to experience the wonders of Africa had come. She would stay for a year, leaving only when she was due home for college. This would be plenty of time for her to fulfill her dream, to see all the places Nena had described to her since she was old enough to listen.

Her big sister loved her, she knew, and Thea had been eager to share her experiences with her since she could first locate Nena's home on the map. Sometime ago, when they studied ancient civilizations in school, Thea had impressed her History teacher, Mr. Mallet, with her extensive knowledge of Africa. She had gotten an A with a comment, "Bravo" on her term paper.

That night, she had rung Nena with the good news, giggling with joy about her achievement.

"That is excellent!" Nena had responded, laughing loudly through the telephone. "I am very proud of you."

"But I could not have done it without your help," Thea returned. "All those story nights certainly paid off!"

Of course, they did. For once she had stepped off the airplane and onto her sister's home ground, Thea felt she belonged there. There was little to amaze her, but everything was wonderful, and bright. The air was clearer, fresher, and the sun hotter as well.

"This is just like you said," she declared to Nena as they alighted from the minivan that had brought them to the large white house at the outskirts of the city. "Everything is so beautiful!"

"Of course," her older sister nodded in reply, "it certainly is."

That whole day, they chatted endlessly about everything. Sometimes, Nena needed to leave a while to attend to her young son, but she always returned with a plate of something to eat, or an album full of pictures to see. That surely kept the conversation going, and even though Thea was tired and sleepy from her long journey, their discussion kept her awake.

Soon, it was dark, almost too dark and nearly impossible to see. Nena shot out of Thea's room the moment she heard the first rumble of thunder and rushed about giving her servants orders. Sometime later, a young girl of just about Thea's age came in to serve Thea dinner. She seemed shy, but eager to explain how important it was that they all stayed indoors.

"Why?" Thea asked, needing to know if her elder sister was safe from the so-called perils of the impending rain.

"In the night, vampires come out to take people away. And when it rains, they strike those that did evil with lightning."

Thea looked on in wonder at first, and then she raised her brow momentarily in question. When the young servant nodded again to confirm her story, Thea burst out laughing. The other girl jumped, startled by her counterpart's unexpected response to her fear.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Thea murmured after she had calmed down for a moment, "But there is no sense to that story," she continued.

"But…" the African complained.

"Where do these vampires come from, and why do they come out only to kill bad people?" Thea asked. The young servant only looked on speechlessly, suddenly confused by the turn their chat had taken. Long minutes passed, and both girls were silent. A light patter had begun to drum on the aluminum roof, steadily beating a rising rhythm all over the house.

Suddenly, the American visitor shot to her feet and dashed out the door. She reached the front of the house in mere seconds and stepped out into the rain. The weather had cooled, though only marginally, and the sky was too dark to see much of anything around.

Yet, in the distance, faint flashes of red and green rippled through the sky. Usually followed by loud thunder, they steadily neared the spot where Thea stood with her arms spread, and her face raised up to the sky.

"Come out of there, you crazy American girl," Thea heard Nena call to her after a while. "You'll catch your death!"

"I have nothing to fear," the 'crazy American girl' shot back at her worried guardian. "Ask Santa, I've been a very good girl! No vampire can take me away. At least, not tonight," she laughed.

Nena laughed softly as she came to stand behind her sister, "You are an absurd little girl. There are no vampires in the rain killing off bad people with the lightening."

"No?" Thea turned around to look at Nena, perplexed. "But you said…"

"Yes, I did," the older woman interrupted. "But those are just tales to discourage children from playing in the rain and catching pneumonia."

"Oh!" Thea whispered, understanding slowly dawning on her face.

She simply stood there and watched Nena's widening grin. Then she burst into laughter and hugged her sister. Of course, there was no better way to dissuade children from playing in the rain than instilling the fear of vampires into them.

Nena hugged Thea back, clinging tightly to her crazy American sister as they were both drenched to the bone beneath the African sky.

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**AN:** Again, props to my fantastic editor, findthewill. Always marvelous!!


	3. March 4, 2010

**Penname:** Edwina Cullen

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction):** AU/Derivative

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s):** T

**Disclaimer:** All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

**Prompt:** (_Idea Completion)_ Your best friend unexpectedly shows up at your home.

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**A Familiar Stranger**

How was I supposed to explain this?

This was a totally unexpected situation. I had never thought I would find myself in this awkward position, panting at the mere photo of a man. Besides, it was completely absurd – absolutely preposterous and out of this world. I knew that no matter how much I tried to explain, nobody would believe it possible. And, that was supposing I found the words to clarify my 'unreal' experience, at all.

Picking up the photograph from the kitchen isle, I rounded the bend of the short partition and slowly walked over to my best friend. My hands shook slightly as I looked down at the picture a second time. If there were any doubts before, they were instantly cancelled by the glowing gold in his eyes. I knew with certainty then, that I had no way of explaining my sudden desperation.

Oddly, it almost felt good to look at his handsome face again. The same brilliant smile so easily lured a woman, ignorant of the truth about him, into his unassuming lair. His eyes still shone with knowledge from the many years he had lived in both universes, confident and promising wonders untold. Exactly as the night I met him, I shuddered again from his sheer beauty.

I swallowed hard, eager to clear the haze and push back the bittersweet memories. There had been a time, not very long ago, when I had been just as awed as the impatient woman across from me. Sitting by the faux mantle, my best friend waited in impatient silence. Her eyes questioned in their intent scrutiny what had brought about the sudden change in my demeanor.

"This is not a pregnant people's thing, is it?" she asked, pointing to my distended belly. "I mean… Lord, you're acting strange!"she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Of course I was acting strangely. There were very few times in my life when I was flabbergasted.

"Sorry Bella," I whispered, barely audible or making particular sense, even to myself. "It's just this man."

"Yes?" she prompted, when I had not spoken after several seconds. She sighed and turned to look out the window, either to avoid my eyes or hide her desperation. "What, this man what?!" she finally yelled and rose from her seat.

"He…" I began.

"No Megan, you!" she interrupted suddenly. A humorless chuckle gurgled in her throat, and when she turned to look me over, I quickly recoiled from the hatred in her eyes. They burned with the fires of hell, glowing with jealousy. "You just don't want me to be as happy as you. That's what this is all about."

"That is not true," I quickly defended, tearing my gaze from hers a moment before realizing my actions could be misconstrued as either guilty or insincere. I was guilty, but not for the ridiculous reason she accused me of. Had I told her the truth from the beginning, she would have know my husband of nine years had not gone on a business trip as I had let on. Bob had left. My life was just not as dandy as she thought.

Perhaps, though, my life had begun to normalize. At least, I thought I had a firm grip on my situation before Bella unexpectedly came bursting through my door with her "good news."

"Did you win the lottery?" I had asked with a wide grin as she practically hopped into the kitchen. Stuffing an éclair into her mouth, she began to explain the cause of her excitement.

"I'm telling you, Megan, they are all really very cute."

"They, who are they?" I asked, slightly perplexed. I had heard Bella's excitement about meeting the right man so many times in the past. Never had she ever shown an interest in keeping multiple partners.

"C'mon, little duckie, listen carefully," she finally swallowed. "I said, I met a man and his brothers. And they are all really handsome," she repeated dreamily, placing a stack of photos before me.

I had smiled and sighed in mock disbelief, momentarily sad for her and the way life had turned out. She merely grinned and nodded.

"So, which of these would be the real deal, again?" I asked.

Her shoulders shook as she laughed at my obvious confusion or inattention. There were several reasons I was distracted, but I could always blame my pregnancy for my inadequacies.

"Pay attention, darling, the dark one with the golden eyes would be it," she urged, unperturbed by my raised brow. Pushing a particular picture towards me, she said, "Look, there he is."

It was in that moment that I froze. There was no mistaking who was in the picture – who I continued to stare at in horror. I sighed, noting how the same man brought a fresh rise to my woes again. Sometimes, he even tormented my dreams, as though he'd never give me rest for my mistakes.

So, when I tremulously whispered to my best friend, "No, not him," I had not expected a protest, or that she would walk away from me. Least of all, that she would accuse me of interfering with her happiness.

"That is not true," I repeated, "You know I love you very much"

"You have a weird way of showing it," she shot back.

I ignored her comment, needing to let her know that she was better off staying away from him. "He's just not good for you, believe me," I murmured.

"Why is he not good for me?" Bella insisted.

Again, I had no answer.

"You're scaring the crap out of me, Megan," she continued softly.

"I… I just think… I know… it's just… I don't mean to scare you, Bella."

"Please explain, then," Bella begged. She reached out to hold my hand, and lifted a pleading gaze to mine. "I just want to know what has you so worked up. Anxiety is not good for growing babies," she smiled.

I smiled back and run my free hand over my protruding stomach. I felt a small nudge and patted the spot as if to calm the squirming children in me. Suddenly, I panicked again. What if they could hear me, or read my unclean thoughts?

"Shh," Bella encouraged, guiding me towards the large couch just behind. I firmly refused to sit, adamantly choosing to stay standing and alert for any more unexpected surprises.

Turning to look her straight in the eye, hoping to beg her understanding, I whispered again, "I can't, Bella. I just can't tell you what you want me to."

Several tense minutes passed. My best friend waited, but I stubbornly refused to succumb to reason.

Finally, Bella whispered, "That's a shame, Megan. You just lost a friend because you can't trust even her. Friends don't keep secrets from each other – especially not so-called best friends."

In one graceful move, she swiveled and collected her purse, walking away without even a "good bye." I sank into the furniture behind and sighed. My regrets multiplied as I watched Bella storm out of my house, leaving the door shaking in its hinges many minutes later.

It was not the first time we had fought, but for the first time I wondered if she would be back.

But how was I to explain to her that the man she had so eagerly fallen in love with was not quite as human as she thought? Or that he was the real father of the children growing inside me, and not Bob?

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As usual, my editor makes it all better. Thank you, _**findthewill**_, for your patience and support.


	4. March 8, 2010

**Penname**: Edwina Cullen

**Original or Derivative (fanfiction)**: Original

**Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s)**: T

**Disclaimer**: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

**Prompt**: Phrase Catch: Repeat the following phrase to yourself five times, open a blank document and begin: "The writing is on the wall."

* * *

**FINDING MY WAY HOME**

How to Cure a Broken Heart was clearly an absurd title for the movie I had opted to watch this morning. Through nearly two hours, I had not once seen a solution for the ailment the producers had led unsuspecting patrons to believe curable.

In fact, there had hardly been a broken heart to heal in the entire plot. Generally meaningless and seemingly unsure of its protagonist and antagonist, the movie failed woefully at portraying any healing in the resultant life of a five year old girl who got lost at the fair.

Found alone and starving by a young, attractive tycoon, the girl was taken to her new guardian's mansion to be cared for as his child. Later, coming of age and discovering her true heritage, the college graduate found herself split between finding her way back home, and staying with the savior to whom she had grown attracted.

Meandering in many realistic and yet surreal ways, the inexperienced girl soon opted to stay after spending a night with her potential beau. Unknown to her the man she so eagerly chose to marry was not as pious as he seemed. Gradually and surely, he unleashed a string of torments over his family until the disillusioned young wife finally run away.

I sighed, turning away from the TV to fetch another roll of tissue for my bloated eyes and running nose. Beside me stood the still full glass of coconut milk my best friend had brought me before leaving for work, now forlornly set in a small puddle of melted ice. Precariously close to it, a box of Snickers laid half open, the Snickers nearly finished, and the box now filled with bunched-up, tear-filled tissues and empty wrappers.

Today was the first day of my maternity leave, and I was glad to raise my feet and let down my hair without worry in my final respite before the twins were due. Over the last few months, I had grown quite tired of my irritating colleagues hovering in corners during coffee breaks, endlessly gossiping about me. Some even turned to look brazenly toward my desk with pitiful stares as they speculated the source of my pregnancy.

Worst of all, my boss hovered over me like a bee over flowers. Seemingly oblivious to her work, she made it her mission to inquire about my health at least fifty times each day. Her awe was apparent, leaking through her wide-eyed wonder whenever her vantage point gave her clear sight of my enormity.

At first, I found her attention very puzzling and irritating, but soon understood why the 23 year old graphics design guru ignored her work to check my state.She had never seen pregnancy up close before and wondered how this great discomfort could match the dream she held in her heart.

So, it felt wonderful to settle down in a couch and watch movies all day. As I had the night before, I lifted my legs onto the miniature bar stool my best friend, Bella, had placed there for my comfort. Huddled under a warm blanket, I barely made it into the next movie before falling fast asleep.

I rarely slept without dreaming. Until I moved to Bella's apartment, I was plagued with nightmares of horrible creatures sent to kill my children and me. Sometimes, I would also glimpse elusive visions of children with golden eyes dressed in royal regalia seated on identical thrones.

This time, however, I dreamed I laid in the meadow surrounding a castle. Around me, daisies grew in rainbow colors while the heady scent of roses saturated the air. The sun shone brightly, warming my skin as I closed my eyes and soaked in the pleasurable weather.

Suddenly, everything changed and a gloom was cast over the sky. Lightning struck through the darkening clouds, a clap of loud thunder shook the ground and a shrill wail of a woman in pain rose over the fading sound of nature's anger.

I shuddered, wrapping my cloak around me tightly as a draft of cold air swept over me. I could feel my heart beat faster, as I ran to escape the clutches of whatever followed me. My breath was shallow and my steps loud, racing over the cobblestone path.

A voice called to me, urgent and pleading, but I ignored it. My single purpose was to hide from my pursuer, and to save my unborn children from a horrendous end. Suddenly, an old woman opened a door along the path and beckoned me in.

I turned to look at her and was jolted awake. Trembling with lingering fear, I realized it must have been the creaking door on the small porch that had awoken me from my terrifying dream.

Probably thrown open by the wind, it stood ajar, letting in a dull beam of light across the polished hardwood floor and over the vacant pale blue walls of the windowless hallway.

I crossed over to close the door firmly, feeling my way through the sudden darkness as I headed to the kitchen for a ham sandwich. Sated and reinvigorated, I headed back to while the day away in my favorite spot with a glass of milk.

I lifted my legs and bent slightly to retrieve my fallen blanket. Wrapped up in my cocoon again, I raised my eyes to the television and froze.

There in red ink, right above the sophisticated home theatre, was writing on the wall.

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**A/N:**_** findthewill**_ makes it all so beautiful! Thank you, BB.


	5. April 23, 2010

Author's Note: My BFF is a multi-talented genius! She is a great editor, best friend, hand holder, gentle butt-kicker... What can I say, I'm blessed! Thank you, **_findthewill_**

* * *

April 23, 2010

Penname: **Edwina Cullen**

Original or Derivative (fanfiction): **Original**

Rating/Warning(s)/Note(s): **T**

Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

Prompt: **Binding Blurb: **Dream

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**AUTUMN RAIN: DREAMERS AND TAKERS **

-

Some nights, I dreamed.

In the darkest hour, when gusty winds blew and spoke riddles through the weeping willows behind our house, I tossed and turned from the fear of what was to come.

And it always came. It never changed. No matter how determined I was to stay up, I never saw the hour 2:00am before the nightmare struck, always at the same time.

I would wake up in a tangle of sweat soaked sheets with tears running down my cheeks. My parched throat, barely able to make a sound, burned painfully. And my head ached from the seemingly endless ringing in my ears.

My smarting eyes could never hold back the traitorous tears wracking from the depths of my heart, overflowing their banks when I could not keep the barriers up. At dawn, always alone, no one saw my tears.

No one watched me pitifully, and no one could hear my sobs as I whispered and moaned, "Lucky, Lucky, come back, please."

I could only grunt in disappointment as traces of her white frilly skirt blew like smoke before my wakeful eyes. She would skip as she put the growing miles between us. And always, just before she disappeared into the dawning light, I heard her the last of her happy laughter echoing away.

Frustrated and tired from the weight of my pain, I would slump back onto the damp pillows angrily and try to shut the nightmare out. How I ever hoped to do that was beyond me; I could never forget.

No matter how hard I tried, I could always still see Lucky and me at the bank of the river, beneath the curtain of golden brown branches sagging from the wilting weeping willows. In the daylight, we talked about everything and nothing, danced around and ate my mother's specialty coconut cupcakes.

Without a care in the world, I never noticed when night fell and hid the path back home among the trees. Quickly, I would gather my picnic basket and turn to my best friend. But somehow, Lucky was never there. Afraid and desperate, I would search till I found her almost hidden away in the shadows near the prairie, smiling and motioning me to come to her.

I would then hurry on, eager to reach her so we could find our way back home. I would never get to her, though – never. The harder I would run to meet her, the further she would skip away, her giggles echoing from the depths of the darkened maze of trees.

"Lucky, Lucky, wait up!" I would call to her frantically, stumbling in the darkness as I tried to catch up.

"Come on, Jan, come with me," she would always call back amidst her shrill giggles.

I would run even harder, forever forgetting to look down at the small boulder on which I always stumbled, plunging face down and flailing wildly in my descent.

It was at that moment that I would wake up.

Always, mere moments before falling to the ground.


End file.
